A Misunderstanding
by RussianWolf7
Summary: Harry walks in on Draco crying in the bathroom and misunderstands the situation. Weeks later, and it's still all he can think about. Draco needs to know why. Drarry; Harry/Draco.


**A/N:** Hello all, and greetings from the great and magical world of Drarry! I know I've strayed, but I'm back in full-force. This particular gem is the product of a prompt from moirane; I wrote it a week or two ago, and I knew it would be the perfect treat on a Friday afternoon in between Unexpected Effects and my next longer story. Starting Monday, a Drarry story called Sidetracked will start to be published, still MWF.

But today I offer you this, and I hope you enjoy. There is a **warning** or two to be had: sexual situations between two consenting, of-age boys. Probably swearing; I don't specifically remember, but I do have a bad habit. In its current state this is a one-shot, but it's very open to a sequel or more chapters later on, if the urge strikes. Right now it's being marked as complete, but add it to your alerts if the mood strikes you, just in case :)

Enjoy!

**A Misunderstanding**

**1**

Harry liked to think he was an open-minded person. When the first hints of being gay had surfaced, he hadn't had a problem with that. He'd wanked thinking about a boy for the first time after Quidditch practice on a particularly hot day when there had been a lot of sweaty, shirtless boys flying around. The first time he'd kissed a boy—George Weasley, last summer, during a night of heavy drinking and after watching Ron and Hermione snog all night—had been sloppy and tasted like stale beer, but hadn't been inherently unpleasant. It had successfully disrupted Ron and Hermione, which had been much more relevant than the kiss. He'd had his first sexual encounter at the end of the summer when he'd visited Seamus. He hadn't been drunk that time, and while it wasn't mind-blowing, it had definitely confirmed his orientation.

After that, well, there hadn't been a lot of firsts. He wasn't interested in dating anyone at Hogwarts, so he'd continued with the wanking and the occasional drunken snogging session. He was bored with his lack of sex life, sure, but he didn't have a problem with anything he'd done.

Until tonight.

The thing was, Harry could have _sworn_ Malfoy was wanking. He was in the least-used bathroom in the castle leaning over the sinks, shaking and whimpering. Harry could see just enough of his face in the mirror to see that he was sweaty and his hair was disheveled. Harry was frozen in the door, staring in shock at what he _really_ thought was Malfoy wanking. And, had that been true, it would have been a first, seeing another boy wank. Which would have been an acceptable excuse for getting hard, even if it was Malfoy. They might not be friends—or really anything even slightly approaching friends—but he was gorgeous and gay. That would have been normal.

What was less normal was getting an erection at the sight of his enemy crying. But by the time Harry realized what was going on he was in the middle of trying to stay alive as Malfoy threw one curse after another at him, culminating in Harry nearly killing him. Then Snape had appeared, and Harry had left. He'd spent the night wracked with guilt over the curse, his head filling with images of Malfoy lying on the tile floor, gasping for breath as blood poured out of him.

Harry tried to put it out of his mind. He really had. He'd gone to classes, done his homework, kept an eye on Malfoy to make sure he was alive, dodged Snape whenever he was near in case of getting expelled. He'd half succeeded; it took a few days, but finally the images of Malfoy almost dying faded away.

What replaced them, though, was the first thing he'd seen in the bathroom that night. Or the thing he'd thought he'd seen. The Malfoy wanking thing.

Harry was not so open-minded about that. Not that it was Malfoy—again, he was gorgeous—but that he had been crying. Being turned on by someone crying was not okay. Almost killing that person was not okay. The saving grace was he wasn't turned on by the crying but by the potential wanking. He had a lot of trouble convincing himself of this when he felt so guilty, but eventually he believed it.

He wasn't wrong, either. This was confirmed in Potions a week later when they were working with high flames. Everyone was overheated, even with outer robes removed and jumpers tossed to the side. The result was a classroom full of sweaty, cranky students. A little more specifically, it resulted in Malfoy once again being disheveled, covered in sweat and was frowning in concentration, once again in a thin, white button-down.

Harry felt a little less guilty about being aroused by that. There was a part of him that expected Malfoy to start crying and another part expecting him to start wanking, but of course neither of those things happened. Harry found himself focusing on the wanking aspect not because he was particularly interested in spending a lot of time thinking about Malfoy wanking but because anything was better than being turned on by someone in the midst of a breakdown.

This was how Harry spent a full two weeks spending every moment he and Malfoy were in the same room picturing him wanking. This included four classes a week, three meals a day and random encounters in the hallways. It also led to inevitable nighttime thoughts that slowly moved from mildly intrusive to all he could think about. He didn't have a problem with not acting on these thoughts and abstaining until they faded away, but after several embarrassing dreams that left his pajamas and sheets ruined, he decided it would be better to just take care of the problem himself.

This was how Harry spent a week wanking to Malfoy every night before bed.

It was also why when he ran into Malfoy he no longer glared at him and acted like he hated him, but got skittish and tended to blush easily. Malfoy was distracted enough with whatever he was doing that he didn't seem to notice, but Ron and Hermione were more observant.

"Okay, Harry," Ron said sharply, cornering him in the common room just before dinner. "What's going on between you and Malfoy?"

"Nothing?" Harry tried. "Rather, I hate him and he's plotting _something _and it's putting me on edge because I don't know what he's doing."

"And what else?" Hermione asked. "Roughly two weeks ago you stopped following him and started acting strangely. Why? What did you find out?"

"Nothing," Harry said, much more confidently. "Really. I'm reformulating my strategy since following him isn't working."

"So why is he acting weird around you, too?" Ron asked. "Did you have a run in or something?"

"He's not acting weird around me," Harry replied, forcing any surprise out of his voice. "He's acting like a git, like always."

"No, he's not," Hermione said. "He's avoiding you just as much as you're avoiding him. And he looks just as jittery as you do."

Harry glanced between his friends. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," Ron replied.

"You did something against the rules, didn't you?" Hermione sighed. "But I suppose as long as you didn't physically injure each other, I won't tell anyone."

Harry flinched. "Er, well…"

Hermione sighed again. "Given that neither of you missed class and are walking around alive, I suppose."

"If it helps, Snape knows," Harry said. "Malfoy and I got into a duel a few weeks ago. He, er, tried to _Crucio_ me and I used a spell from the Half-Prince's book, and then Snape appeared and broke it up." None of that was technically a lie, and he felt relatively secure in it.

"_Crucio_?" Hermione gasped. "Harry, you've got to—"

"What did the curse you used do?" Ron interrupted. "Did it work?"

"Um, yeah, it worked," Harry replied. "It sort of equaled out the Unforgivable Curse. In any case, he's fine and I'm fine and Snape didn't expel either of us so everything's fine. Things are just weird, y'know, what with the Unforgivable."

"I told you to stop using that book," Hermione said, scowling. "What did you do that 'equaled out' an Unforgiveable Curse?"

"It's not important," Harry said. "Everything's fine, I told you. Can we please get dinner now?"

"One more question," Ron stated. "If all that's true, why did you start having wet dreams about him?"

Harry gaped at him. "What?"

"We all heard you," Ron said. "It was pretty funny, if it wasn't so disturbing."

"I—I don't know!" Harry stammered. "It happened once. Remember that dream you had about Padma _and_ Parvati? Did I tell Lavender? No I did not. I didn't even tell Hermione, who as you can see, is properly scandalized."

"About Malfoy," she said vaguely. "I couldn't care less about the Patil twins."

"Well it was one dream," Harry huffed. "Come on. Dinner."

"Where you'll just blush and stammer and pretend you aren't staring at the Slytherin table all night," Ron said. "But fine. If dueling turns you on, by all means enjoy your fantasies."

"Just shut up," Harry snapped.

**2**

Harry was finally starting to get over his obsession with Malfoy and his wanking habits. It took another week, but he was no longer getting erections in the middle of class, and even surprise encounters in the hallways were uneventful. Harry's wanks returned to normal, as did everything else.

Then there was another day of high flame potions. Harry spent the entire class fixated on Malfoy, especially once he was down to yet another tight, white button-down. Fringe hung in his face, sweat beaded on his forehead and he was chewing on his lip. As long as Harry kept his eyes above waist level, it was virtually the same as the night in the bathroom. It didn't help when Crabbe and Goyle asked for his help and he tossed his head back and groaned in frustration.

That was the end of both Harry's staring and his erection-free streak.

It was also the end of any lies. It hadn't occurred to him that since he wasn't wearing his robes he didn't have anything to hide his erection. Hermione remained prudently silent, but Ron wouldn't shut up for the rest of class, whispering inane things about Harry's sex life and how pathetic he was if dueling and a high flame were all it took to get him going.

Harry was in a terrible mood by the time they left, wrapping his cloak firmly around himself, loudly stating that the dungeons were drafty and it gave him chills. Ron pointed out that nobody cared, and Harry punched his arm harder than he needed to.

"Potter!"

Harry could have died. Apparently Malfoy's voice didn't help the situation. He whirled around. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Christ he looked gorgeous. His shirt was clinging and all but see through. His hair still hung in his face. Not only was he coated in a thin layer of sweat but he had a delighted expression, no doubt due to not being stuck in a suffocating dungeon room anymore. This didn't interfere with his patented smirk, and Harry decided that was the official point at which the situation passed across the line into "not fair" territory.

"You look like a wet dog," Malfoy remarked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Is that all? A lame insult? You're just as sweaty as me."

"I can pull it off," Malfoy replied, running a hand through his hair and letting it fall back into his face. "I look stunning."

Harry wasn't in a position to argue. "Shove off," he said intelligently, turning away.

"I've got to talk to you," Malfoy said, sounding pained.

Ron elbowed Harry, while Hermione had the presence of mind to stay neutral. He turned back around and saw that Malfoy now stood alone; his lackeys must have gone ahead to lunch.

"Fine," he said tersely. "What?"

Malfoy glared at Ron and Hermione. "Alone."

Hermione gave Harry a nervous glance while Ron smirked.

"Fine," he said again. "Go on. I'll meet you in the Great Hall."

"Don't do anything stupid," Hermione said. "Promise me you won't get into another fight."

"I promise nothing," Harry replied, not taking his eyes off Malfoy in case he decided to curse him while his back was turned and not because he was stunning.

She sighed. "Just try not to get into trouble. Or hurt."

"I'll take good care of him, Granger," Malfoy said snidely.

"We'll see you soon, then," Hermione said, walking off with Ron.

"And don't get your knickers in a twist just because he's an arse," Ron called over his shoulder.

Harry supposed Ron thought that very clever. He was less amused.

"Again, Malfoy, what do you want?"

"Come on, there's a spare room down the hall," Malfoy said, walking away.

"A spare room?" Harry asked skeptically, though he followed Malfoy. "What're you going to do to me?"

"Nothing you don't want." Malfoy opened a classroom door and, severely startling Harry, held the door open for him. When Harry walked through Malfoy quickly stepped forward, brushing their bodies together. Harry shivered against his will, and was very aware of the click of the door closing and the snick of the lock engaging. The classroom was dusty and almost entirely empty. There were two chairs pushed into a far corner and a large desk at the front of the room.

Harry really wished for a way to put something between himself and Malfoy. Thankfully Malfoy stayed by the door and didn't seem bothered by the ten feet Harry moved into the room.

"For the last time," Harry said nervously, "what do you want?"

Malfoy crossed his arms and his smirk turned into something much more serious, all hard angles and angry eyes. "I'm aware you and I are hardly friends," he said coldly. "I have no regrets regarding our duel beyond my inability to correctly cast a _Crucio_. I'm not even upset about whatever you used on me. Let bygones be bygones, yes?"

Harry eyed him. It was hard, given how attractive he was, but he was clearly furious, and that served to focus him. "I suppose," he replied slowly. "What's the problem then?"

Malfoy's jaw clenched. "I want to know why my obvious discomfort turned you on. Like I said, I know we're not friends, but I didn't realize my misery gave you _quite_ so much pleasure."

Harry blushed a deep, dark red. "I wasn't—I don't know what you're talking about."

Malfoy took out his wand, and with a silent swish Harry's robe dropped to the floor, leaving his trousers uncovered. "That is what I'm talking about," he said. "Why, pray tell, are you _still_ aroused by the idea of me crying in front of you?"

Harry closed his eyes, willing this to be a dream. An unpleasant change from his previous dreams, but it had to be a dream because this couldn't be happening.

"Come on, Potter. Out with it. Is it seeing me miserable? Vulnerable? Do you need your sexual conquests to result in tears?"

Not a dream, then. Almost certainly not. "It wasn't that you were upset." That wasn't what he meant to say because he was supposed to deny it. Not that his trousers weren't making it quite obvious, but he could at least try to pretend it wasn't because of Malfoy.

"Then explain," Malfoy replied tightly. "Hate me all you want, but you getting off on my despair is not acceptable."

"Bloody hell, can't you just believe me?" Harry groaned. "I don't want to talk about it. I promise it has nothing to do with your 'despair'. I didn't even know you were upset."

"Here's the thing," Malfoy replied. "I keep tabs on you just like you follow me, and I would have noticed if I turned you on before this. Since that night, you can hardly look at me, and clearly the problem hasn't gone away. What changed, other than me crying in front of you?"

Harry opened his eyes, and Malfoy still looked furious, but maybe not quite as much, and confusion had slipped in. Then a look of delight.

"Don't tell me it was _Crucio_," he cried. "Does the thought of me torturing you give all the wrong reactions?"

"No," Harry snapped. "For fuck's sake no."

"Then tell me!" Malfoy exclaimed. "I wouldn't care if you thought about me while you played with yourself, most of the school does, but I need to know what about that night was so enticing!"

"Why?" Harry demanded. "Why is that so very, very important?"

Malfoy ground his teeth together. "Enough people enjoy causing me pain, the last thing I need is for you to join their ranks. With an _erection_."

"I didn't think you were in pain!" Harry shouted. "If you really have to know, when I first walked in I thought you were wanking, okay? I couldn't see that you were crying. All I saw was you, shaking and gasping, all sweaty and leaning over the sink. I'm sorry you were upset. I'm especially sorry I cursed you like that. I feel awful about it. Awful, not aroused."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Wanking?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, wanking."

Malfoy considered. "That's why you were staring at me in class today? Because I reminded you of that night? Sweaty and gross?"

Harry winced. "Yeah. Can I go now?"

"No," Malfoy said. "You're turned on by me wanking? I need to you to be very clear on this."

"Merlin, yes, Malfoy, the thought of you wanking turns me on," Harry snapped. "Are you happy now?"

"A little, yeah," Malfoy said, smirking again. "I've spent the past two and a half weeks thinking you were a sadistic little dickhead, but it seems you're just yet another of my pathetic admirers."

"I am not," Harry replied, somewhere between bored and annoyed. "I'm gay, and you're—you're not entirely unattractive. What was I supposed to think?"

"Maybe that night," Malfoy conceded. "But still? Weeks later?"

"I'm done with this," Harry said angrily. "Make fun of me all you want, but not during lunch. I'll pen you in for just after dinner, then? Does that suit you?"

"No," Malfoy said again. "We're going to settle this now."

Harry held out his arms. "Fine. I'm here. My wand's in my robe, which you so kindly divested me of. Curse away."

"I'm not going to curse you," Malfoy said, still smirking. He pushed off the door and started walking towards Harry, who stepped back for every step Malfoy took forward. "You're clearly desperate, if just watching a wank—not even a real wank—is what it takes to get you hard. I'm in a good mood, considering your motives are not nearly as dire as I expected. And when I'm in a good mood, I can be generous."

Harry swallowed nervously, back pressed against the stone wall. "Generous?"

"Oh yes," Malfoy replied. "As flattering as your constant staring and ever present erection are, I suppose I owe you for that Unforgiveable."

"No, you don't owe me anything," Harry said quickly. "I cursed you back. We're good."

"All right, if you don't want a thinly veiled excuse, so be it," Malfoy said, and now he was standing directly in front of Harry. "You want the truth?"

"Um, well, you made me tell you the truth," Harry stuttered. "So, yeah, truth? Also, what are you doing?"

"Giving you a hand," Malfoy replied. "Quite literally."

"A hand," Harry repeated. Malfoy had moved even closer, and he was even more enticing when he was only an inch or two away.

"Yes, Potter, a hand."

**3**

Malfoy's hands were at Harry's belt buckle, deftly undoing it and pulling his belt off before he had a chance to say anything.

"Malfoy, what—?"

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, grey eyes sparkling and fringe still hanging in his face.

"I—" Harry had a lot of problem finding his words as his button and fly were undone. "I have no idea."

"I'll take that as a no," Malfoy said silkily. "Feel free to speak up at any time if you change your mind." His fingers slipped into his trousers, keeping above his boxers but that didn't matter anymore because Malfoy's hand was cupping him and he went from somewhat hard to painfully so in a split second.

"Why?" Harry asked, though he didn't really care. His eyes had slipped closed and he was focused entirely on Malfoy's hand.

"I see no reason not to," Malfoy replied, stroking gently.

Harry let out a sharp sigh and his hips jumped. "Fine, whatever. Don't stop."

"Whatever you say." He tightened his grip, continuing to stroke him through the thin cotton. "This does seem a bit backwards, though. Shouldn't you be watching me wank?"

"No, don't stop," Harry said again, grinding against his hand. "And stop teasing."

"So bossy," Malfoy purred, but he did slide his trousers and pants down. "Mm, and so hard. All because of a silly misunderstanding."

"Put your hand back," Harry replied, jutting his hips forward.

"No," Malfoy said pleasantly, sliding a hand under his shirt and exploring his chest. "Not my hand. You've been stuck on this for weeks, I can do better than my hand."

Harry whimpered. "Then do it."

Malfoy sunk to his knees, and Harry nearly came from that image alone. Grey eyes still focused on his face as he leaned forward and licked a drop of precome off his tip, and Harry groaned.

"Is this your first time?" Malfoy asked, kissing the underside of his shaft. "Getting a blowjob?"

"Ohh, yes," Harry groaned. "Stop teasing."

Malfoy gave him a quick lick. "Say it nicely," he said. "I'm doing you a favor."

"Fuck, _please_," Harry moaned. "Please stop teasing and—_fuck_."

Malfoy took him into his mouth, firmly sucking on his head before sliding down. Harry moaned again as the tip of his erection hit the back of Malfoy's throat, and let out a strangled scream as he slid the rest of the way in. Malfoy hummed quietly, swirling his tongue around his shaft and swallowing.

"_Merlin_, Malfoy." Harry tangled his hands in Malfoy's hair, briefly noting how soft it was. His energy was focused on not thrusting into his mouth, and on not coming immediately.

Malfoy continued to suck, hollowing his cheeks, and reached down, gently playing with his balls. That was almost the end, but then he moved back and rubbed his perineum, and that was actually it. Harry groaned incoherently, unable to stop from bucking forward, not that Malfoy seemed to mind. He swallowed perfectly and licked him clean.

Harry slid down the wall, trying to get his breathing under control and to stop shaking. He let Malfoy redress him, lifting his hips when required and shuddering again when he was put away.

"Merlin, that was…"

Malfoy smirked, only it was more like a smile. "Glad you enjoyed."

"You?" Harry asked, still trying to get his thoughts in order. "What about you?"

"I thought I'd give you what you _came_ for," Malfoy replied, smile turning sly. He shuffled over so he was leaning against the wall next to Harry, who rolled his head to watch him.

"Your mouth?" he asked.

Malfoy laughed quietly. "No, you dolt. It seemed to me you wanted to watch me wank. I have no problem with that."

Harry's breath caught. "O—oh."

"Oh indeed," Malfoy said. Harry watched intently as Malfoy undid his belt and trousers, long and elegant fingers making quick work of the barriers. He slipped them down, toeing off his shoes and removing his clothing entirely, pants included. Harry was fixated on his cock; thick and long and red and incredibly tempting.

"The first cock you've ever seen?" Malfoy asked, lazily stroking himself.

"No," Harry replied irritably. "But maybe the first in a well lit room."

"I see," Malfoy said. "Am I everything you dreamed of?"

Harry licked his lips. "Yeah. Good."

Another quiet laugh. "Your articulation never ceases to amuse."

"Articulate?" Harry echoed. "Fine. I want you shaking and whimpering and sweating just slightly. I want you to come, hard, and at no point do I want you to start crying."

"How very demanding," Malfoy sighed, taking himself firmly in hand. "Do I require further instruction?"

"No," Harry said, eyes fixated on Malfoy's hand. "Just shut up."

"You sure I don't need to be bent over a sink?" Malfoy asked breathily, trying and failing to sound scathing.

"Malfoy, I swear to Merlin."

Malfoy twisted his wrist as he stroked over his head, letting out a moan. "I'm doing what you want," he breathed. "Just making sure I'm doing it right."

"Perfect, now stop talking," Harry said tightly.

"Fine." Malfoy's strokes sped up and he continued to do the twisty thing and in very little time he was exactly as Harry remembered him. Shaking, whimpering and sweating just slightly. His hips were jerking up, his head was thrown back against the wall and he was continually leaking precome and after a lot of internal debate Harry reached down, swiped off a drop and licked his finger. Malfoy groaned at the sight, and Harry sighed.

"Ever given a blowjob?" Malfoy gasped.

"No," Harry replied, swirling his tongue around his finger. "I'm busy now."

"Next time," Malfoy moaned. "Fuck, next time I need your mouth on me."

Harry's muddled brain swam. Next time? There was a next time? And he would be expected to be talented at things he had no idea what to do? That was a little terrifying.

Also irrelevant in the face of what was spread before him.

"Merlin, Potter, so close," Malfoy whimpered. "It's been so long—_mm_—since I've done this for myself." Another moan. "I'm _good_."

Harry laughed throatily. "Yeah."

Another two strokes and he was gone. It was the first time Harry had seen another man come, and it was surprisingly erotic. Malfoy was gasping and shaking, thrusting erratically into his hand as he came, coating his hand, stomach and chest in mess. He continued to stroke himself as he came down, slowing as his breathing returned to normal and he got himself under control. He reached out blindly, eyes closed, grabbed his wand and magicked away the mess. He took a moment sitting half naked before putting his pants and trousers back on.

Malfoy turned to Harry, locking eyes. "I feel better now," he concluded. "Watching me wank is much more acceptable than watching me cry."

"Agreed," Harry said, starting to get nervous. This was approaching a conversation, a conversation immediately following getting each other off. With Malfoy. Awkwardness loomed.

"I think I saw you blanch at the mention of next time," Malfoy replied. "Was this a one off, then?"

"Um," Harry tried. "Er. I hadn't really thought about it. I was, uh, busy."

Malfoy smiled beautifully. Unfairly beautifully. "You certainly were. Then I officially propose a continued affair."

"Not in the dungeons," Harry said, which was as close to a yes as he could manage. "It's cold and there's dust places I really don't want dust."

Malfoy's smile widened. "All right, no dungeons."

"Then it's settled?" Harry asked.

Malfoy leaned over and kissed his cheek before standing and slinging his book bag over his shoulder. "Indeed. See you around, Potter."

**4**

Harry stared after him, unable to form a response. He didn't know what had just happened or what had been settled, and even standing up seemed to reach beyond his knowledge. Eventually he remembered it was lunchtime and forced himself onto his feet and up to the Great Hall.

"How'd things go with the git?" Ron asked as Harry sat next to him.

"No more dueling, I hope," Hermione added.

"Fine," Harry replied vaguely. "It's settled."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.

"What, exactly, is settled?" she asked.

Harry shook himself. "Nothing, sorry. How's the meatloaf?"

"Good," Ron said, confused. "Settled?"

"Absolutely."

Not.

**The end.**

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